


by my side

by writerlily



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7392145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerlily/pseuds/writerlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world of liars, abusers, and manipulators, Jon is the one clear defining contrast to those things. He's loyal to his friends where others are not... Kind where others are mean... He's painfully honest and he looks at her like he wouldn't ever hurt her. </p><p>He wouldn't hurt her, would he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	by my side

There are always matters to attend to at Winterfell. Now that Sansa is back, and the lady of the castle, it seems as if she's being pulled in every which way direction at all times. Whether it be looking over ledgers, or discussing things with the other Lords of the north, she's a busy woman. But the one thing at the forefront of her mind is her feelings for Jon.

In her heart of hearts, she knows what it is, what the warmth and blossoming feeling is in her chest. She knows what the wanting is and the longing, but it's not right for her to feel this way, is it? 

And that's what she doesn't quite understand, because she should be put off by any and all men, but Jon isn't just any man. 

He's Jon and he's there for her. Those hands of his that would destroy for her are the same hands that would only ever show her warmth. 

She thinks that he might feel the same; months held in captivity in King's Landing taught her to read between the lines and she likes to think that she's more perceptive than she used to be. It's in the way that he shies from physical contact from everyone but her... The way his hand lingers on her back when they're walking through Winterfell... The intensity in his stare when she catches his gaze while she's doing something like arguing with stubborn Lords, or helping pass out food to the poor. 

Sansa goes to his bed chambers one night, when the castle's inhabitants are all asleep and the wax candles are burning a bit dimmer. Her feet pad softly against the stone floors and she brings a hand up to the walls to steady herself as she goes to him; she tells herself to slow down, because she just might trip over herself in her haste to see him. Jon's not going anywhere, she has to tell herself-- they have time. 

He opens his door immediately, before her hand can even fall back against her side and his eyes slightly widen in surprise. She wonders how she must look; she hadn't even so much as glanced at herself in her mirrors before leaving her room. 

"Sansa," her name falls easily from between his lips and she would smile then and there if she wasn't so caught up in the fact that he isn't wearing a shirt. He's muscular, she knew this before by the way his broad chest and shoulders would outline his clothes, but she wasn't expecting this. 

She swallows and looks away. "Forgive me for disturbing you," she says, losing some of the bravado she had when she decided to come see him. "I'll just go," she mutters awkwardly and she can almost imagine Arya laughing at how stupid she's being. 

Jon catches the sleeve of her nightdress and gently tugs her back. "You weren't disturbing me," he says sincerely and he lets go of her. He walks back into his chamber and grabs his discarded shirt from his large bed, tugging it on. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

At that, she smiles. "Neither could I," she admits and she walks into his chamber as he shuts the door behind them with a soft click. 

Jon rubs his hand against the back of his neck, looking all sheepish, and so much like the shy boy she knew from before. "Is something the matter?"

Sansa shakes her head and keeps her lips pressed shut as she places herself at the edge of his bed. It's inappropriate of her to be sitting on the bed of a man she isn't betrothed to, but she doesn't quite care. She doesn't think that she can care about anything except for the way Jon's throat moves as he swallows and looks at her. 

She reaches a tentative hand out for him to take and he holds onto it without hesitation. That makes her lips tilt upwards again. 

Jon makes her smile. 

She hasn't smiled this much, or this genuinely, in such a long time that the pull of her lips almost feels foreign. It's not unwelcome at all though, especially not when Jon smiles back at her. She thinks they must look like two fools, but she shrugs it away, and pulls him closer to her until he's sitting next to her. She lays back and he follows after her easily. 

Jon is gentle with her. 

Sansa forgets that she needs kindness sometimes, but he's always there to give it to her in abundance. She's a broken little bird; she deserves someone who'll be nice to her, doesn't she? She thinks on that as she places her head on his chest where she can hear his heart beating quite fast. It makes her eyes light up in laughter, and that's another thing. 

Jon makes her laugh. 

Whether it's with stories from when they were younger-- tales of old nan chasing him and Robb around the castle-- or when he's making faces at Lord Glover behind his back. She doesn't understand how someone who's gone through so much blood and death could still find it in themselves to shine brightly, but that's just Jon then, isn't it? 

She supposes that the same could be said about her because for every joke he has, she has one of her own and a laugh right back for him. For every smile he gives her, she has one for him and another for someone else. For every soft touch he gives her, she's even softer back. 

Jon touches her. 

She's been at the mercy of a man's hands ever since she left Winterfell all that time ago. Those hands have always been laced with selfishness and intent and harm, but not Jon. Jon touches her like he can't believe that she's real and with him and she lets him. She openly accepts his hugs and his hand in hers. 

Sansa knows that this doesn't erase the things that have happened to either of them-- this thing between them doesn't make the memories disappear... but it helps ease the pain. It helps her heal in ways that she didn't think were possible and she hopes that she is what he is to her. A steady hand. A warm presence. A calming guide.

A home.

She rolls her head up to look at Jon and finds him already watching her. She smiles.

"What was that for?" He says with an eyebrow raised at her. "That smile?"

She rests her chin against his chest. "I can see up your nose from here," she pauses. "You're quite the hairy man, Jon."

Jon snorts in laughter and it's such an undignified sound that melts away any bout of awkwardness at their intimate contact with each other. 

"You wound me," he scoffs, but it's not in the terribly mean way that Cersei and Joffrey would scoff mockingly at her. Jon's smile melts away as he questioningly peers down at her. "Why did you come to me tonight?"

She mulls that over for a moment before speaking. 

"For the same reasons that I will come to you every night," she tells him honestly as his breath hitches. She places her hand against his warm cheek and he leans into it. There are unspoken words in what she says and she sees the way Jon latches onto it, staring down at her with dark eyes.

"I didn't think-- I mean, I wouldn't have thought," he says and shakes his head, letting out a deep breath. 

"I know," she says quietly, her words soft against his chest. 

Sansa moves herself higher, until her face is above his. He's watching her intently, almost disbelievingly. As if this is some dream happening that he might awake from. She traces the scars on his face with her fingertips. One day, he'll tell her how he gots these, just like she'll tell him about the scars of her own. 

He takes her hand in his own much larger one and there's a silent question in his eyes. 

She trusts him. 

And that has to count for something, doesn't it?

In a world of liars, abusers, and manipulators, Jon is the one clear defining contrast to those things. He's loyal to his friends where others are not... Kind where others are mean... He's painfully honest and he looks at her like he wouldn't ever hurt her. 

He wouldn't hurt her, would he?

"I wouldn't," he says deeply, seriously, and Sansa startles. She hadn't realized she said that last part out loud and he's staring at her. She's pulled in by the warmth that she feels radiating off of him and she can't help but shift closer to him. He doesn't push her away, or try to move back from her, and it makes Sansa feel something that she hasn't in quite a long time. "I would never hurt you."

He says it so sincerely and genuinely that it just about breaks her heart. How long has it been since she was with someone who she felt completely safe with? Too long, she thinks, with a shake of her head. 

"No you wouldn't," she gives him a gentle smile as his face relaxes into something less serious and warmer. 

She likes the way it makes him look a bit younger, like the boy she knew growing up. But they aren't those people anymore and she banishes those thoughts away. The old Jon and the old Sansa are gone... replaced by the people they are now. When Jon presses his lips softly against her hand, she decides that what they have now could be the start of something new and real.


End file.
